


times change

by castielwholmes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 04:57:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6105635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielwholmes/pseuds/castielwholmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time you hold his hand, you’re seven years old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	times change

The first time you hold his hand, you’re seven years old.

“Golly, Buck, lookit that!” he says, pointing at the lions in their cage at the Bronx Zoo. Most people smile at the two of you as they pass by, but you see some folks shake their heads and say you’re too old for that. You think that’s just baloney. Why can’t a fella hold his best friend’s hand if he wants? When the lion roars and he grasps your hand a little tighter, you promise him that you’re “not gonna let ‘em hurt you, Stevie.” When he grins up at you, baring the gap in his front teeth he hides from everyone else, you decide you’re gonna keep that promise for the rest of your life.

The second time you hold his hand, you’re nine years old.

However hard you try, there are some things you just can’t protect him from. He’s shivering from the biting Brooklyn winter, his tiny body racking with coughs. You haven’t left his side since you heard the news, about nuh-mo-na or something. The doctor tells his mother he might not make it much longer. You choke back a sob and close his hand in both of yours, whispering “You gotta be better, Stevie. For me.” When his mother and the doctor find him in your arms, asleep and tucked against your chest, you hear him say that you may have been just what he needed. You never want to let go of him again.

The third time you hold his hand, you’re fifteen years old.

You’ve told him a thousand times not to get in fights with kids bigger than him, which practically means everyone. But as always, he doesn’t listen. This time you find him lying bruised and bloody behind the school, mumbling “You should’ve seen the other guy, Buck” and “He was bothering Dottie, come on, I had to.” You shake your head and help him up, muttering a soft “Punk.” He smiles. “Jerk.” It isn’t until you’ve gotten to the street that you remember to let go of him. The world isn’t as kind as you thought it was as a child.

The fourth time you hold his hand, you’re twenty seven years old.

He’s Steve, but he’s not your Steve. He’s taller than you now, stronger. You thought your life had ended in that room when the face of an angel appeared above you. When he helps you up, saying “It’s me, it’s Steve,” you realize it’s not the end, it’s only the beginning. Even after the man who caught you rips off his face to reveal a crimson skull before disappearing, even after you think you might lose him again (“Just go! Get out of here!” “No! Not without you!”), you don’t let go of him until you’re out of the compound. Just to make sure he’s real, you tell yourself. And he is.

The fifth time you hold his hand, you don’t get to.

You’re reaching out for him, but he’s too far away. The bar snaps off and you know that this time it’s the end.

The sixth time you hold his hand, you’re ninety seven years old.

You don’t quite know who “he” is, but he’s fighting you and you’re fighting back. The men who followed you into this had been dealing with him earlier, but once he escaped them and ran to you you knew it was your turn. As you lift your arm to stab him, his fingers wrap around your hand to stop you. Next thing you know he’s ripped off your mask. “Bucky?” he asks. _Who the hell is Bucky?_ You have no time to wonder before you’re knocked down, the last thing you see of him being a grief-stricken face. Who was he? You knew him. They tell you he’s no one, he’s not important; but you knew him.

The seventh time you hold his hand, all you know is that he is your mission.

He’s trying to stop the people you serve, using a chip to change the targets of their helicarriers. They told you that he is the enemy, trying to stop them from creating a perfect world. He cannot be allowed to proceed. You try to take it from him, try to grasp it, but you grab his hand instead. You feel a tiny jolt of recognition, like something about this is familiar, but you shove it aside. You don’t care why. There is no time for thought. You have to stop him. He keeps telling you that you’re his friend, but he is lying. They told you that you don’t know who he is and that he’s not important, just that you have to kill him. And you will.

The eighth time you hold his hand, you’re not sure of anything.

He tells you he’s with you till the end of the line. He won’t fight you. He… he was your best friend. Instead of fighting back, he dropped his shield and let himself fall into the water. It was your fault. And you have to help him, to find out what’s happening and why he means so much to you, so you pull him out. Your fingers brush his, but you can’t bring yourself to tighten your grip after what you did to him, so you grab him by his collar instead. When he’s safe, you know you can’t stay with him. At the first sign of life you leave him there, unable to face him when he wakes up.

The ninth time you hold his hand, you’re twenty seven years old again.

He takes you to all the places you went together before the war, at least the ones that are still there. For the sake of your safety, the two of you had taken precautions to make yourselves less conspicuous. You protest, telling him that such an open declaration of affection is dangerous and bound to raise attention, but he tells you they’re only staring because of the fact that your hand is metal, not that it’s entwined with that of another man. You marvel at this strange new world that you’d seen but never had the chance to experience as he tells you all that has changed, from technology to music to society.

The first time you kiss him, you’re twenty seven years old.

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on tumblr ages ago, not sure why I never thought to put it here!  
> If you'd maybe like to reblog it http://turndownforbodt.tumblr.com/post/101350179194/the-first-time-you-hold-his-hand-youre-seven


End file.
